


All the Struggle We Thought Was In Vain

by Crowgirl



Series: Scars Remind Us [58]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Traps, Hunting, M/M, Self-Sacrificial Angels, Self-Sacrificial Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:33:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ongoing discussion, and ramifications thereof, between Dean and Castiel about the after-effects of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Struggle We Thought Was In Vain

LVIII.

_‘Down!’_

Dean hits his knees, covering his face with his hands, but the light is sharp, blinding, golden-bright, too much to stand, and he huddles forward against the dry earth, trying to hide his head with his arms. 

There’s a surge of pressure against him, like a strong wind even though there’s no air moving and a sound like fire cracking wood.

Castiel screams.

Before Dean can think, he’s on his feet and stumbling forward, one arm still raised against the glaring light. He can hear Sam and Bobby shouting at him, but he can hear Castiel, too, and that wins over anything they might be saying. _‘Cas!’_

The light is gone, as if someone had flicked a switch, and Dean stumbles over the lines of the trap before he can think if that’s a good idea or not. Passing over the lines feels like falling against an electric fence with a really strong current and, for just a minute, he smells burning and smoke. Then, he’s past it and the air is heavy, but clean again.

Somewhere behind him he can hear Sam yelling and he doesn’t even bother to look around, just shouts back: ‘Shut up, Sammy!’

He drops on his knees beside Castiel. The angel is on his back, neat as a child’s doll put to bed for the night, arms by his sides, face calm, eyes closed. ‘Jesus, Cas, don’t do this...don’t...fuck...c’mon, _please...’_ Dean runs his hands over Castiel’s limbs, but nothing feels broken or sprained or even out of place. The angel’s face remains calm and still. He grabs Cas’ shoulders and almost shakes him. ‘C’mon, Cas -- don’t _fucking_ do this to me!’

‘You really do love him, don’t you?’ Castiel opens black eyes and Dean jerks back, falling on his ass on the pounded dirt. ‘I thought you must be faking it.’

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Dean! I’m hurt.’ One hand presses to Castiel’s chest and his head cocks flirtatiously. ‘Don’t you recognize me?’

‘Oriana.’ Dean tastes sharp bitterness in the back of his throat. ‘Get the _fuck_ out of him.’

‘Why should I?’ Castiel’s hands run down over the trenchcoat, then under the suit, and he smiles, but it’s Oriana’s expression, hard and predatory. ‘I haven’t had a body of my own in a long time --’ One hand pats Castiel’s belly approvingly. ‘I think I like this one. He stole it from --’ She pauses, then says, ‘Jimmy Novak. Hm.’ 

Castiel’s face assumes a thoughtful cast as if listening to something, then Oriana laughs through Castiel’s mouth. ‘Oh, this is a _good_ body.’ He stretches and it’s Oriana’s movement in Castiel's body, somehow predatory and a little _over_ -elastic, as if the joints are moving just a tiny bit too far. 

Dean swallows hard against the bile in the back of his throat. ‘Oriana, don’t do this.’

‘Why not?’

‘’Cause you were human once.’ It’s the first thing he thinks of to say and it’s fucking _weak._ He wants to reach forward and pull her out of Castiel with his bare hands but he might as well throw water balloons at the sun for all the good that'll do.

The black eyes spark. ‘So was the poor sap your angel stole this flesh from!’

‘He _agreed._ He gave up the body willingly.’

She snorts dismissively. ‘Or the angel would’ve taken it anyway.’

‘No -- that’s not how it went down. I was _there._ Jimmy volunteered.’ Bleeding and cornered and terrified for his daughter but, hey, he put his hand up as far as Dean's concerned.

‘Are you _honestly_ trying to make me feel _sorry_ for him?’ 

‘You want a body? Okay, take me again,’ Dean says in desperation. ‘You had me for forty years! Take me back! Do whatever the hell you want with me--’

‘Dean, _no!’_ Sam’s voice rings out loud and horrified and Dean hears the scuffle of feet but he doesn’t pay attention, doesn’t even look around. Bobby will take care of Sam, won’t let him do anything stupid. He can hear the older man’s gruff voice behind him and Sam doesn’t speak again.

‘--but let your precious little angel go?’ Oriana laughs again, propping herself up on her elbows. ‘Oh, no, I think this is much more fun.’

Dean closes his eyes. ‘Please, Oriana...’ 

‘Oh, no, Dean Winchester. I think I can have _much_ more fun with you in the flesh--’

‘I’m sorry.’ The words come from nowhere and they’re stupid. He can’t think of anything to say that _isn’t_ stupid.

‘You-- what?’

‘I’m sorry. For what happened to you. But -- Cas didn’t do it. He hasn’t done anything to you. So...so if you want someone to torment, take me.’ Dean spreads his arms wide, sitting back on his heels. His head is pounding and his chest feels panic-hollow but there’s nothing else he can say, no way he can walk away from this. ‘You can leave me alive inside, do whatever you want with my body -- you know I can’t stop you.’

The black eyes stare at him, wide and sparkling, but the demon doesn’t speak.

‘So c’mon! Do it! Don’t you wanna get out there and walk the world? I’ll tell Sam and Bobby to let me walk -- whatever you want to do, they’ll let you get away with it.’ 

The black eyes are still staring at him, then Castiel’s body jerks, goes stiff, and Dean gets just enough warning to yank his jacket up over his head and wrap his arms around his ears. 

As soon as the harsh glare dies away, he looks. Castiel is lying as he was, neat as a doll and Dean lunges forward, catching at the angel’s shoulders as though he could haul him away from demonic possession bodily.

Touching Castiel is like touching a live wire, though, and he jerks back involuntarily, cursing and shaking his hands. 

Castiel opens his eyes and there’s a metallic sheen over the blue. ‘You never listen to instructions, Dean.’

Relief is like cold water and he’s deeply glad he’s on his knees already. Even so, he leans forward, supporting himself on one hand, feeling the scratch of dirt against his palm. He waves the other hand in a vague way. ‘Yeah, well...’

Castiel stretches out a hand and matches his fingers against the handprint hidden beneath Dean’s shirt. A feeling like orgasm and electrocution combined jolts through his body and he bites back a shout, grabbing at Castiel’s wrist. ‘What the -- fuck!’

The angel doesn’t answer, but the sheen over his eyes fades, leaving them their usual tired blue.

‘Cas? Is -- are -- are you okay?’

‘Yes.’

‘What...happened to Oriana?’

‘I released her.’

‘The trap -- it won’t hold--’

‘It will.’ Castiel takes a deep breath and pushes himself up to sitting. Too late, Dean lurches forward to try and help but Castiel feels a little strange under his hands, stiff and ungiving, and he pulls back.

‘Cas, we needed _all_ the demons--’

‘We have them. I took what was demon from her and allowed her to go free. I lent some of my Grace to strengthen the trap.’ Castiel glances around at the trap and nods. ‘It will work.’

‘That’s what you said last... time...’ Dean glances at the lines in the dirt around them and his eyes go wide. 

The lines gleam gold, sunk deep in the earth around them. For a minute, they shine like molten metal, then they dim and fade slowly until there is nothing left but the scratched lines in the hard-packed dirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "So Far Away," Staind, _The Singles 1996-2006_.


End file.
